


Fate Will Do The Rest

by daphnerunning, Galiko



Series: The List [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Anal Sex, Condoms, Crossdressing, First Time, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daphnerunning/pseuds/daphnerunning, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galiko/pseuds/Galiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The zodiac is never wrong--and that's why Midorima is so very conflicted. When Oha Asa informs him that today is a perfect day to confess, things get awkward fast... or do they? Takao is actually a lot easier to deal with than Midorima ever imagined, and so is their relationship as a whole (even when he has ideas about fundraising in a cheerleader's uniform later on).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The zodiac is never wrong.

 

Of course, that’s what’s put Midorima in such a conflict.

 

_Trust the zodiac, do whatever is in your power, and fate will do the rest._

 

That’s the code he’s lived by for years, and it’s served him well until now. Now, two months into his first year of high school, for the first time in his life, the zodiac has turned on him.

 

_“Good Morning, everyone! Today’s horoscope for Cancer is suuuuuuper lucky!!! Lucky item is an alpaca plushie wearing sunglasses, available at Maggiego UFO catchers across Japan today only! Cancer-sama, today is the perfect day to confess to the one you’ve been spending a lot of time with. Compatibility with Scorpio today is at an all-time high!”_

 

It had only taken one try to sever the giant plushie’s string, of course. UFO catchers are games of concentration and precise skill, two things Midorima prides himself on. Even with taped fingers, it’s an easy twitch of the buttons, and the huge pink thing drops into the slot, spending the rest of the day cradled easily in his arm. It sits, watching, ready to judge him when one person sticks out of the crowd (by virtue of being dressed in brighter colors than anyone else). “Takao.” His voice carries, by virtue of months of practice yelling at Takao.

 

If Takao were a cat, his ears probably would have twitched, all-too used to the sound of Midorima's voice at this point and honing in on it. "Ahh, Shin-chan, what's--"

 

Well.

 

That's a giant pink alpaca. 

 

"--up." Takao blinks, chewing slowly and blowing a rather sizable bubble with his gum before letting it solidly pop and be licked off of his lips. Hmm. He's seen Midorima with a lot of weird things over the past couple of months, but this one is really cute. "Hey, can't you only get those from the UFO catchers? You must be really good at it. Get me one next time."

 

“It was necessary.” Midorima pushes up the bridge of his glasses, blinking at Takao. “There’s a UFO catcher on the way to your house from school, I know. If you want to pedal that distance I can get you your own. I know how important it is to have a lucky item.”

 

He turns, standing facing Takao. “Takao, what do you say when confessing to someone?”

 

"Uh." Talk about an awkward subject change. Takao blinks up at him, brow furrowing slightly. Not just awkward--weird. And annoying. On a few different levels, actually, because if Midorima is _asking_ him, then that means he's interested in someone. It's not like he'd ask for someone else's sake (who the hell else is friends with the guy, anyway? No one, because no one has good taste like he does, they don't know what they're missing). 

 

"Umm… it's usually best to be direct, and just say it." _Well, I was going to say things about how I really admired you and had a grudge on you at the same time, but that was awkward and weird and I don't like disliking people so it was better to just admire you… and also, you're insanely pretty, but that's beside the point_. "Why?" he casually adds. "Don't tell me, did the lady captain of the chess club catch Shin-chan's eye?" 

 

“Who?” Midorima remembers her, of course, but not because she’s actually worth remembering. And her chess is appallingly sentimental in its play. “Don’t be vague, Takao. Tell me what to say, right now.”

 

"Ehhh, but why?" Takao grumbles, frowning and blowing another bubble in an attempt to hide his irritation. It pops too soon, and he ends up picking gum off of his cheek. "If Shin-chan just quotes me, it would be awkward, anyway. Just tell them you like them and what you like about them and that you wanna spend time with them more or something. Girls think that's cute." 

 

Midorima reaches out quickly, plucking the gum from Takao’s mouth in the instant it’s open, tossing it down a storm drain. “That makes you look like a cow. I don’t want to be thought of as cute, my horoscope says Cancers have to confess today.”

 

Takao tries not to sulk, and fails. "Shin-chan's being really mean. I'm going to bite your fingers next time you do that." He wouldn't, not _really_. That hand is a little too valuable. He sighs instead, rocking back on his heels. "Well, if you don't want to be thought of as cute, you're out of luck, anyway. You're always sort of cute, you don't have to try. It's a tsundere charm point."

 

How absurd, not to mention inconvenient. Midorima sighs, pushing his glasses up, and asks irritably, “So all I say is that I want to spend more time with you and I like the way you drive me around on your bicycle? That doesn’t sound too difficult.”

 

"Well, I guess that would work, if you were confessing to me? But geez, if you tell a _girl_ something like _that_ \--actually, _I'm_ a little offended, all you like is the way I drive you around? I'm _adorable_ , find something better to compliment me on, don't be so--"

 

Wait.

 

Takao pauses. He shuts his mouth, opens it again, and then settles for staring, somewhat wide-eyed. " _Are_ you confessing to me?" 

 

Midorima sniffs. “Not if you’re going to require a list of your good qualities, that’s for certain. Shut your mouth, you’ll catch flies.”

 

"… _Do_ you have a list? I know you like lists." This… was _not_ the way Takao expected his day to go, or any degree of _confession_ to ever go between them. He's been planning this, of course. With stuff like this involving Midorima, one _has_ to plan, or it comes out weird or wrong or Midorima just doesn't get it. It's especially awkward because they're both _guys_ , and he's been feeling out for a good _month_ now whether or not Shin would even be interested in him--

 

Except he totally just got beaten at his own game, and it feels really, _really_ good. 

 

Ahh, he's probably grinning like an idiot. " _I_ have a list," Takao cheerfully informs the other boy, leaning in closer, "about all the stuff I like about Shin-chan." 

 

“You can submit it in writing,” Midorima mutters, heat creeping into his cheeks, and the alpaca’s eyes bulge out oddly as his grip tightens. At least Oha Asa was correct, as always, about his compatibility with Scorpio. Obviously, that was hardly up for debate--he’s always been compatible with Takao, ever since the other boy had been good enough to properly understand their relationship. 

 

He wants to nod, call the matter finished, and go to class.

 

But something about the way Takao is looking at him, close to him, makes his words come awkwardly, his limbs move not quite right, and his blood pounds in his head. “I won’t require anything of you, Takao. You can still drive me home today.”

 

Oh, no, Shin is _really_ cute.

 

There's probably something wrong with _him_ , to think that Midorima is this cute. Most people would probably be annoyed, or at best, _frustrated_. Ahh, but it's in the way Midorima's blushing and fidgeting, the way he clearly wants to turn tail and run but _isn't_ , and that speaks volumes, because Midorima is _always_ one to avoid a confrontation if it involves any amount of _feelings_ \--

 

"We'll go by the convenience store after class first, and I'll buy you one of those drinks you like." Takao fishes out another piece of gum, popping it into his mouth before Midorima can stop him. It's kind of hard not to bounce. He wants to bounce and latch onto Midorima's arm and sort of climb him like a ladder, but that's not really appropriate in public and it would make Midorima mad, anyway. "And I'll definitely submit that list in writing, so you can keep it with you all the time and remember all those things, okay?" 

 

“Takao is an unbearable idiot.” At least Takao doesn’t mind when Midorima says things like that. That’s more than can be said for the captain of any chess team. He straightens up, switching the plushie to under his other arm, counting the change in his pocket--yes, it’s enough for another alpaca from the machine on the way home, if Takao buys his soup. 

 

He starts to walk off, then stops, sighting the rest of the basketball team sitting on the steps outside the entrance, picking his way towards the side door instead. “We’ll be late for class. Your punctuality is _not_ on the list of things I like about you.”

 

"You're supposed to follow that up with a thing you _do_ like!" Takao whines, sparing a wave for the rest of the team before happily trailing at Midorima's heels instead. "Tsun is good, but be a little dere _sometimes!"_

 

“I’m not a character in one of your daytime dramas,” Midorima says with a sniff. “If you carry my bookbag that will go on the list, however.”

 

"Yeah, yeah, you say that, but you're the perfect prissy tsundere archetype. Hand it over already." 

 

Midorima hands over his bag, hefting it easily onto Takao’s back. Yes, that’s much better for his posture. He walks in silence (as much as Takao will give him) for a few minutes, before saying quietly, “I’m pleased that you’re a Scorpio. We’re often compatible. That’s on the list.”

 

"Ah, same! I was hoping you'd realize that," Takao unabashedly admits, scooting up closer to walk at Midorima's side. It takes effort not to lean on him _too_ much. "Our blood types are good, too, yeah? Because I'm O, and that gets along just fine with yours!"

 

Midorima’s mouth opens, then closes. “If you’re just going to guess the rest of the list I suppose I don’t need to say it out loud.”

 

"No, I wanna hear it, I definitely want to hear it!" That calls for a headbutt to one lean shoulder, which is about as unaffectionate as Takao can manage being just then. "Or you could write it down, too, and we can exchange lists later. That's good."

 

About to agree (everything is better with lists), Midorima pauses. “Can you print yours off at school? I forgot, my mother told me to bring a friend to dinner tonight. I was going to tell her I don’t have any friends, but if you’re free…”

 

"I was going to handwrite it, that makes it better!" Takao tilts his head, eyebrows raising. "Shin-chan is inviting me for dinner? Of course I'll come. Also, you shouldn't lie to your mother, you're stuck with me from now on." 

 

“I changed my mind, I’m going to find the captain of the chess team.”

 

"Too late, I'm gonna glue myself to you with my gum. She's also an Aquarius, don't go that route." 

 

Midorima makes a pinched, exhausted face. “Better not,” he agrees. “We’ll stop on the way to my house and buy you some proper clothing to wear inside my home.”

 

"Haa? What's wrong with the stuff I have? I'm a _very_ fashionable dresser, thank you very much."

 

“Too modern. Your name is bad enough. Can you sit in seiza for the whole meal? We don’t have chairs.”

 

"Hey, I have an _awesome_ name." Ughh, what kind of family does Shin _have_ , anyway? "And yeah, I… think I can manage. I'll consider it extensive training." 

 

“You may have a point. If it strengthens the muscles in your legs, I’ll recommend to the captain that we all sit in seiza even in class.” Midorima looks down, watching their footsteps as Takao jogs slightly to keep up with his strides. “Your name is on my list, by the way.”

 

Any and all desire to groan about the task of sitting in seiza for extended periods is lost when that little sliver of a compliment is extended. Takao blinks up at him, slowly grinning. "Shin-chan likes my name?"

 

“I like that it suits you. Modern name, modern dress, modern hair. You’re a consistent person, Takao Kazunari. I appreciate consistence.” Ah, all this giving of compliments is going to give him a stomachache.

 

"You _would_ , wouldn't you?" Takao murmurs thoughtfully, that stupid grin still plastered to his face. He can't _help it_ , not when Midorima's being like this so early in the day. Geez, it wouldn't have gone this well even if all his plans had actually happened. "I'll keep being consistent, then. In games, too. And whatever else, if it's easier on you." 

 

“If you didn’t keep being consistent, you wouldn’t be consistent.” Midorima takes off his glasses for a moment to rub his eyes before putting them back on. At least since Takao is in his class they won’t have to set up a meeting point after school. That’s nice. It’s very like Takao to make life a little easier on him. In fact, that’s on the list, though he’ll save that for later. He wouldn’t want Takao to get too excited by hearing the whole thing at once. “Stop smiling in class. No one smiles in class, someone is going to think it’s strange.”

 

"But I smile in class all the time! You just don't notice." _The back of your neck is nice to look at._

 

Midorima stops short just outside of the classroom. “Takao. Make my excuses. I can’t go into class like this.” His face is _red_ , and people will talk.

 

Well, if his face is _already_ red… Takao's grin widens as he nods, shrugging Midorima's bag up a bit higher on his shoulder as he looks about the now very empty halls. "Will do," he cheerfully agrees, and stretches up onto wobbly tiptoes, just shy of stealing a kiss. "I'll tell them you were having a sinking spell, like a real delicate princess." 

 

If his face was slightly flushed before, it’s red as a fire truck now. There should be some kind of a rule against Takao, really. “I--” 

 

Flustered, he shoves the alpaca into Takao’s arms, turning and taking off for the nearest toilet. Just because Oha Asa was right doesn’t make this any less _embarrassing_.


	2. Chapter 2

If asked his own opinion, Takao would say he has a _lot_ of great ideas.

 

The team had been skeptical about this particular idea for a fundraiser at first, but a roll of his eyes and a convincing push in the right direction ( _everyone_ does it, wasn't it fun last year, I _know_ you guys did it then, too; we'll make so much money!) does the trick easily enough.

 

If asked _another_ opinion, he'd also say he looked better in girl's clothes than absolutely anyone else on the team.

 

Of course, it's _supposed_ to be funny to see a bunch of gangly guys in frilly skirts and dresses probably snitched from their sisters or laughingly handed over by their mothers. Except _he's_ short enough to not have knobby legs, and pulls off a cheerleader's outfit with a short, pleated skirt and stockings maybe a bit _too_ well--especially when he has clip-in pigtails that bounce when he runs.

 

Yeah, he's proud of those.

 

" _You_ have got to be dying in that," Takao mildly observes, taking a long sip from his soda as his eyes rake over Midorima. Everyone else was frilly, stupid things, and Shin-chan's decked out in a _kimono_. Actually, it suits him a little too well, though Takao had gotten a seriously nasty glare for suggesting he tie the obi in front. _He_ thought it was funny. "And you didn't even move much, it's just too hot for that sort of thing, Shin-chan."

 

“You moved enough for both of us,” Midorima says cooly. Really, he looks absolutely _absurd_ , wearing a woman’s kimono several sizes too short, pilfered from his mother’s closet. They all look ridiculous, but if this is what it takes to earn the money for Shutoku to go straight to the top, one day of inconvenience is certainly better than weeks of humiliation at a bake sale, pandering to sweets lovers instead of honing the craft of basketball.

 

Takao _does_ look less ridiculous than the rest of them. Or maybe he just looks so ridiculous that he’s come out the other side, like some pop idol. “You should think carefully about the effect you may have on people in that outfit.”

 

Takao blinks at him--or really, bats his eyelashes quite enthusiastically, especially since he's got false ones on there to make the whole thing even more convincing. "You mean like how I've had girls _and_ guys clawing up my legs all day?" he teases, leaning in to give Midorima's shoulder a nudge. "If you didn't look so grumpy, maybe they'd be climbing up you, too. Shin-chan is so _pretty_ like this, he doesn't even need falsies." 

 

“Hmph. I should have known you’d enjoy the attention,” Midorima sniffs. “You seem like the type to appreciate being pawed over on the basis of your looks.” Never mind that Midorima sort of wants to be doing a bit of the pawing. That’s irrelevant, of course.

 

"If I think about that long enough, it almost sounds like Shin-chan is complimenting how I look right now."

 

That’s unfortunate. Takao is entirely too adept at hearing his meanings, rather than his words. Midorima hates it, sort of. “You look like a woman. Why would you think I’d find that attractive?”

 

"Well," Takao matter-of-factly begins, "you _have_ been staring at my grade S zettai ryouiki _all afternoon_. Though these stockings are a pain to keep up, you should be grateful I've bothered for so long!"

 

Midorima pushes his glasses up on his nose. “You shouldn’t have worn them in the first place if you can’t keep them up. For example, the tie of this obi keeps attempting to slip up and down because my waist is at an incorrect ratio to my hips and bust, but I’ve kept it immaculate since dressing myself.” That doesn’t mean his eyes don’t trace over that single bare inch of Takao’s thighs, suddenly appreciative of a fetish that’s never been his before.

 

Takao pouts, and thoroughly. "Still think you should've tied it in the front," he grumbles underneath his breath before stretching with a sigh. "Ahh, whatever, we're done, and don't you need help out of that thing? I think I might wear mine home, though, I like seeing people try and figure out if I'm actually a girl." 

 

“Do you think they would believe a girl is pulling that large a rickshaw?”

 

"Shin-chan is so mean. Maybe I'll win janken today," Takao sighs, grabbing the other boy by the arm to haul him bodily into the locker room. "Also, you never know, some girls are that strong! Once, I dated this girl that could _throw me_." 

 

“It doesn’t surprise me you’re attracted to those more powerful than yourself,” Midorima says, then turns around as soon as the door shuts behind them. “Please remove this. Unlike you, I have no desire to go around inflaming men’s lust.”

 

Takao's eyebrows arch at that, a slow grin spreading across his face. "Inflaming men's lust? Is _that_ what you're calling it?" Thank god for locker rooms--and being the last ones to leave as always, when they're expected to clean up everyone else's messes. There's a flimsy lock on the door that he idly turns before quite happily trotting after Midorima, grabbing at his obi immediately. "I've never actually done up one of these myself," he admits. "Or undone them, I guess. Geez, Shin-chan really _is_ good at all this traditional stuff." 

 

“I thought everyone was,” Midorima admits honestly. “Didn’t your parents teach you traditional male and female dress along with your tea ceremony lessons?” His eyes rake down, and his face flushes slightly. “Or did they skip straight to how to achieve an S-rank zettai ryouiki?”

 

"Ahh, my parents didn't teach me any of that stuff… well, not to the point I really remember it…" Takao smirks up at him, satisfied enough when he finds loose ends and can actually start unraveling the obi and all of its parts, no matter if it isn't being done _properly_. "And I _definitely_ taught myself how to achieve an S-rank. Does Shin-chan think I have nice legs?" Since that confession not so long ago, Takao has been thinking about this sort of scenario a _lot_ , and he would be an _awful_ liar to say he didn't want Midorima to think along the same lines. He's rather enjoyed the stares he's gotten all day, but none as much as Midorima's, and now, pressing close, it's easy enough to _feel_ exactly how much the other boy likes it. 

 

Midorima looks away, trying to find something, _anything_ else to focus on, before the obi hits the ground. Surely, most young men who haven’t trained themselves only to get erections on Tuesdays and Fridays have some kind of method for dealing with a sudden unwanted one. “Ah. That--” He swallows hard, trying to will it away before the cloth falls, but that only makes him a bit panicky.

 

That's a _definite_ yes. 

 

"You can touch them, if you want." Takao is pretty sure skirts aren't good for being this turned on, but hell if he cares right then, especially when the lump of mostly unwound fabric that once resembled a pristinely tied obi hits the ground, and he can wriggle closer still, stretching up on tiptoe to nuzzle his face into Midorima's neck. He grabs for one of the other boy's hands, and upon feeling it shake, gives it a slow, easy squeeze before guiding it to the few, bared inches of one thigh. "If you like something," he murmurs, "you should at least enjoy it properly." 

 

Midorima’s hands are large, or at least _long_ , perfect for playing piano and for tossing a basketball and apparently, for fitting about halfway around one of Takao’s thighs. His fingers tighten automatically, digging just slightly into the softness over the muscles, and he sucks in a deep, uneasy breath while his kimono falls open. There’s a warmth radiating from above, under the skirt, and Midorima swallows hard, looking down at Takao in his sudden loss for words. _What do I do?_

 

Oha Asa never covers this.

 

At least he's not getting shoved away or being called stupid for starting this (yet). 

 

As far as Takao's concerned, that's perfection. He hums underneath his breath, wriggling closer to let his cock rub against the jut of Midorima's hip, sighing out through his nose when he feels those long fingers give his thigh a squeeze. Yeah, this whole crossdressing thing was a _great_ idea. "Shin-chan is so pretty that I want to spoil him," he murmurs, sinking down onto his heels, but not without giving the other boy's collarbone a quick bite. "You're leaning on my locker, let me get something out of it and I'll make it really good." 

 

“M-make--” Make _what_ really good? Though he can’t deny he likes being spoiled…

 

Midorima stands shakily away from the locker, straightening up and letting reluctantly go of Takao’s thigh. The movement makes his kimono part further, falling off one shoulder, and he shrugs it off completely. His form is perfect, hardly a source of embarrassment (since he was twelve and shot up two feet in eighteen months), but he’s never let _anyone_ see him like this. Better, though, than to try and hide it by keeping a loosely hanging piece of cotton draped over his genitals, which somehow seems far more obscene. “Hurry, then.”

 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm working on it." Takao eagerly leaps to the task, in his locker in an instant and rummaging through the clutter there in short order. He shuts it afterwards, coming out with what seems like nothing, and grabs at Midorima again, uncaring for any protests when it's really _fun_ to have the opportunity to shove him around, especially back into the lockers again.

 

Shin-chan isn't fair, really, especially when he's flustered and his skin is red and he's all… haphazard and mussed looking. Takao is _proud_ of himself for getting him to this point, and wastes no more time before he neatly drops to his knees in front of him, eyes lidded as he rips open the condom package with his teeth. "You look _way_ too good like this, Shin-chan. How are you even fair?" Also fun: nuzzling aside fabric, kissing one of those hipbones, _biting_ one of those milky white thighs, and watching how _hard_ Midorima gets because of it. 

 

Takao’s teeth, lips, his _tongue_ are on Midorima’s thighs, his hips, and that’s enough to make Midorima’s eyes roll back into his head. The ghost of a warm breath against his balls is a hundred times worse, and he groans too loudly, leaning back against the locker until his head hits the cool metal. “Takao--do--whatever you’re going to do, I--”

 

He’s not _stupid_. Far from, and he knows exactly what Takao is going to do, especially when watching him play with a condom like it’s a toy makes him shudder, cock throbbing and a drop of liquid beading on the tip. “You know how to put that on, don’t you?”

 

"Yeah." He _should_ just go ahead and put it on, shouldn't he? Ahh, but he can't help but lean in, curling his fingers around the base of Midorima's cock, his breath hot as it washes over the tip of it. Takao's tongue flicks out, dragging a hot, wet swipe over it, and there's no helping the low, rumbling groan that escapes his throat, not when Midorima's taste is heavy on his tongue and his own cock _aches_ between his thighs. 

 

 _Focus_. Right. That's what he's doing. Fumbling with cherry flavored condoms, which are easy to put on himself, but a little different when it comes to putting them on someone else. Takao's fingers are a little shaky with eagerness as he slides it just a bit over the head of Midorima's cock, and he leans forward to let his mouth do the rest, easing it down with a press and wriggle of his tongue. "Might have jerked off to this the other day," he breathlessly, shamelessly admits, grinning as he sits back to admire his handiwork. "Except now Shin-chan tastes like cheap candy. _Excellent_." 

 

It takes a considerable amount of effort not to fall down. Midorima gasps, lurching back against the lockers with a strangled noise, hand coming up to grab onto the top of the lockers to keep himself upright. 

 

This doesn’t feel like _anything_ he recognizes. This isn’t difficult, or awkward, or incomprehensible like so much of the world--and unlike the rest of the world, it’s completely beyond his control. He’s in Takao’s hands now, in his _mouth_ , and just now the idea of doing whatever the hell Takao wants in the hope of more of this feeling sounds pretty damn good. “Me too,” he admits, voice half a groan. “Though--there was--n-no skirt--”

 

"The skirt should make it better." The knowledge that Midorima's been thinking about him like this too makes him even harder, and Takao can't _help_ himself. He lurches forward, licking a wet, messy stripe up the length of that cock, and damn, but cheap cherry candy flavored things have _never_ tasted this good. One hand grabs for one of Midorima's, guiding it to his hair, and the other scrabbles at a lean hip, pushing Midorima back into the lockers as his lips wrap around the tip of him, sucking him into his mouth with a low groan, and he's pretty sure it's okay that the whole thing is messy and unpracticed as long as he has more of Midorima in his mouth, throbbing against his tongue with that very thin bit of latex hiding _nothing_. 

 

For some reason that has nothing to do with wanting a girl instead of Takao, the skirt _does_ make it better. It makes him harder, makes Midorima’s cock throb and ache against Takao’s tongue, and if he hadn’t been leaning back against the lockers, he’d definitely have fallen by now. 

 

The hand on Takao’s head helps--or maybe it makes it worse, because having his hand in his hair is so oddly erotic in itself Midorima can’t help but groan. His fingers tighten, and he moves in an involuntary jerk, thrusting forward as he grabs at Takao’s hair, yanking him down without thinking of anything except how _good_ it feels, how wet and tight and amazing, to be inside Takao’s mouth. “Takao…” The name is more of a prayer than anything, lost and urgent and _groaning_ , far too loud.

 

That's _definitely_ approval, and Takao is _so_ okay with having to work for it if he gets to hear it more often.

 

Takao eagerly scoots forward a bit more on his knees, his fingers splaying over Midorima's hips as he focuses on the cock in his mouth, the way Midorima throbs against his tongue, hard and thick and ah, yep, going too fast--or really, being yanked _down_ definitely makes him gag, but lesson learned. Takao swallows hard the next time Midorima's hips jerk up, and god, it makes his own cock even harder when he manages to take almost all of Midorima down his throat, his mouth stuffed so full that it's hard to even draw a ragged breath through his nose. 

 

Takao isn’t dying and he isn’t stopping, and right now that’s pretty much all Midorima cares about. He’s not sure who’s controlling his hips, because it isn’t his conscious mind. He moves, and it’s good to the point of pain the way he rubs against Takao’s tongue, the slurping, messy noises he’d usually _hate_ , the tight squeeze of his throat when Takao does something that lets him--

 

Ah, he wants that more. Is that allowed? Takao isn’t saying _no_ ….

 

He thrusts forward with a too-loud moan, dragging Takao’s head down until he feels a nose pressing against his belly, the sound from his mouth turning almost into a scream at the pleasure there. That really, really shouldn’t be allowed.

 

There's _really_ something erotic about Midorima yanking him around like this. Probably, there's something wrong with him that he thinks it's so fucking hot to have his face hauled down onto Midorima's cock, to end up choking and gagging hard to the point tears prick in his eyes and he _has_ to lurch back against Midorima's hold, needing at least one solid gulp of air. "Not yet," Takao manages to rasp out, blinking hard against those tears--yeah, that's a falsie coming off for sure--and fumbling with shaky fingers at the condom. "If you're gonna come, do it on my face." His mouth does the rest of the work in peeling the condom off, letting the sticky thing dangle from his teeth as he wraps his hand around Midorima's cock in an eager, insistent stroke.

 

Seeing a used condom dangling from Takao’s lips marks about the eighth fetish Midorima’s discovered in an hour. 

 

Later, probably (maybe) he’ll punish Takao for turning him into such a pervert. Just now, all he wants to do is whatever Takao wants him to do, especially when part of that is a breathy, urgent plea to come all over his face. Midorima’s groan melts into a whimper as Takao takes him in hand, stroking him somehow better than he ever does to himself. It takes a few brief seconds, no more, before he loses himself in a tidal wave of shock unlike anything he’s quite felt before, spurting across Takao’s face and hair and _lips_ in hot, messy streams, losing his sweaty grip on the lockers the second he’s done, and sinking to the floor in a graceless, naked heap.

 

That's about the twentieth _unfair_ thing Midorima has done, and Takao really, _really_ likes it.

 

He shudders as he sinks back, eyes tightly shut, though that does little to make him stop _feeling_ the hot, messy slickness dripping over his face, a lot more than he expects (and that's good, too). He reaches out blindly, grabbing one of Midorima's hands, shoving it underneath his skirt and that's _really_ all it takes. Just that touch, even if it's prompted by his own hand, even if he's the one guiding Midorima into doing it and his cock only slides against the other boy's palm just once, is more than enough to make him come with a ragged, hiccuping gasp, his hips jerking forward as he spills messily and sort of flops his way forward against Midorima in a tangled heap. 

 

Midorima slumps down to the ground, twining the fingers of one hand through Takao’s. Every breath is a chore, chest heaving, and he can barely speak for long minutes. Every time he looks at Takao, completely debauched and defiled, wearing women’s clothes and smeared with semen and sucking on a used condom, it makes him want to come all over again. “You could have told me,” he says, when he can finally sort-of talk. “I wanted to touch it for longer than that. Don’t wipe your face yet.”

 

"Kinda had my mouth full," is the low, breathless drawl to follow, and Takao reaches up, to pluck the condom from his lips, twisting it around his fingers with a grin. He does as he's told, even if he's a _very_ sticky mess, and simply gives Midorima's hand a squeeze as he wriggles close. "Shin-chan can touch it a lot more later, though. I'll consider it an honor." 

 

Midorima nods, still too out-of-it to remember all the reasons he hasn’t been doing things like this every day until now. “Payback,” he mutters, “that’s what it’ll be.” _Later_ sounds really, really good right now. _Now_ sounds better, but the locker room is cold, and they honestly can’t stay here forever. “Did you want to come to my house again?”

 

"Hmm… your little sis _did_ seem pretty enamored with me." Takao grimaces as he cracks an eye open, peeling off one false eyelash that doggedly tries to hang on. "But better yet, you should come to my place." 

 

Midorima nods, not even thinking about how many routines that will break. “All right. We’ll stop on the way and you can buy me more modern clothing so I’ll fit in.”

 

Takao wants to roll his eyes, but really, the concept of being able to dress Midorima up is too alluring. "Yeah, good. Right now, though, let's shower. You come a _lot_ , you know." 

 

“I do?” Midorima blinks, climbing slowly to his feet. “I’ve never had anyone to compare myself to. I never thought to look up average milliliters and compare it to one of my emissions.”

 

"… Shin-chan, sometimes…" Takao groans, letting his head bang back slowly into the lockers. "You really _are_ weird. Thank god it's also cute." 

 

Given past reactions to his speech and behaviors, that’s probably about the best Midorima can hope for. He even lets Takao “help” him in the showers, finally letting him wash his face (adding another fetish to the new list while he does). On the way to Takao’s house, he endures nearly half an hour of Takao dressing him like a mannequin, commenting on parts of him he’s never even considered trying to flatter. 

 

In the end, it’s all moot in any case; Takao’s parents aren’t even home. Midorima looks at him suspiciously as they enter, taking off his shoes and turning them to point towards the door. “Is it really all right? To be here when your parents are away?”

 

And here comes the part where Takao wonders how much to tell Midorima about his parents. Some parts would probably freak him out. "Eh, they're really not gonna care." He toes off his own shoes, leaving them at the door and tossing his bag onto the nearest couch. "I don't usually have a lot of people over, actually. I usually go out places instead, so they'd probably be happy that I liked someone enough to drag them over."

 

Midorima nods slowly. He doesn’t really _understand_ , not when his own parents are so dependable and ever-present, but if Takao thinks it’s normal… “Very well. I hope you’re not expecting me to cook dinner.”

 

Takao shoots him a wry glance. "Give me more credit than that, Shin-chan. Like I'd _ever_ ask one of my girlfriends to--uh--" Whoops. That was a slip. He waves a dismissive hand, _hoping_ Midorima won't froth at the mouth over it when he didn't mean it badly. "Or boyfriend. Whatever. I was just gonna order out, anyway." 

 

Midorima is quiet for a moment, taking a seat in one of the tall, high-backed chairs that seem to fit so well in Takao’s home and would be so very out of place in his own. “Do you see this as a homosexual relationship, Takao?” he asks, thoughtfully.

 

"The way you phrase that makes it sound so _clinical_ ," Takao mutters, fishing out a soda from the fridge--and one of Midorima's gross red bean drinks. Not like he had planned on having the guy over at any point or anything. "To be fair, Shin-chan, I _did_ just suck you off in a locker room, so, uh…"

 

“Yes, I remember.” Midorima remembers entirely too well, or at least his body does with how it flushes at the very thought. “I’ve done some research online. Would you like to discuss the nature of our roles in this relationship?”

 

Takao nearly spits out his drink. "Uh. That's great and all, that you've been researching it. But can we just… do whatever? This isn't like writing a play book, you know…"

 

Midorima blinks. “But you like the play book. You wrote the play book. I hope you’re not expecting me to decide who will be, I believe the term is ‘seme’?”

 

"Shin-chan, I'm begging you, please stop." Takao flops forward over the kitchen counter with a groan. "Seriously. It really doesn't matter--we can just do the things we like and there don't have to be labels. I know you like sorting things and like putting labels on things, but not this, okay?"

 

Midorima looks up at him, curious. “Why is this different? My effectiveness in any role decreases drastically when I don’t understand it, you know.” Probably only Takao would be able to hear the uncertainty in that sentence. New things are difficult for Midorima. Things he doesn’t understand with unknown rules are frightening.

 

"Because relationships aren't… like that." Okay, to be fair, it's not like Midorima would _know_. At least, that's what Takao has assumed and gathered, and he seriously doubts he's wrong about Midorima having never dated anyone in his life. He sighs, plopping himself down into a chair next to the other boy, and shoving the drink into his hands. "Also, we're friends, right? We're just going to be doing all the same stuff we always do, except also having sex."

 

“Oh. Is that how it goes?” Midorima pushes up his glasses. “If it’s just previous friendships with an added component of sexual gratification, I don’t understand why anyone would make such a big deal about it. You should have just said you didn’t want a romantic relationship when I confessed.”

 

Midorima can be _dumb_ sometimes. Takao opens his mouth, then shuts it again, thinking. "… But I do want that. Being friends and being romantic don't have to be mutually exclusive, either. Though you're right--we don't have to make a big deal about it. I like you, and think you're hot, and want to spend time with you. There's nothing really complicated about any of that, I don't think." 

 

“There’s nothing complicated about shooting a three-pointer either,” Midorima points out, “but you seem to have a great deal of trouble with that.”

 

Takao levels a put out stare upon him. "Y'know, Shin-chan, people don't have to be good at everything. That's why relationships are good, combined resources and all that. _You're_ not always good at getting the ball in the first place, and so isn't that what I'm there for?" 

 

Even Midorima can see that he’d deserved that. He nods in acceptance, though not agreement. “Explain it to me, then. Do we differentiate our relationship based on location, timing, or company?”

 

"Well… I doubt it's a good idea to advertise it publicly," Takao hedges, grimacing at the thought of anyone on their team figuring it out. He cares far less about the flack _he'd_ get--far more so about what Midorima would go through, and never mind how they'd _definitely_ get kicked off. "Probably best to just keep it between us, you know? I'm kind of all over you in public, anyway, so at least I don't have to change that at all! If anyone asks, we're friends. Nothing strange about it." 

 

Midorima nods, looking down at himself, then over at Takao in his chair. “But you’re not all over me right now,” he points out, slightly confused. “Is that something you’ll only do in public places?” This is a lot of work. He’ll make a chart as soon as he gets home. If it weren’t for what had happened in the locker room, he’d have left already.

 

"… I'm trying not to annoy you," Takao admits sheepishly. "Though your lap looks pretty comfy right now." 

 

Hesitantly, hoping the word isn’t “shyly,” Midorima reaches out a hand to him. “If it’s private like this, it’s all right, isn’t it? You can annoy me tomorrow.”

 

Permission is the _best_. Takao grins, and in an instant, hops over into Midorima's lap, rather pleased at how neatly he can fit himself there with his legs thrown to one side and his hands grasping at one of Midorima's. "Yeah, good. Congrats, you're stuck with me now that you've said it's okay." 

 

“I’m already regretting it.” He isn’t. Not at all. Takao feels sort of _right_ in his lap, a slotted piece fitting into an odd bit of furniture he’d never known was a puzzle until it was suddenly completed. He twines his fingers with Takao’s, and in a movement that makes his heart suddenly thud louder than the outside traffic, turns his neck to give Takao a quick kiss somewhere around the corner of his mouth.

 

What if he makes another list of all the stupidly cute things that Midorima does even though he's really, really shy about it? Ugh, that kind of hurts in his chest. Takao leans up before the other boy can entirely lean back, stealing another, more properly placed kiss as he squeezes Midorima's hand tight. "If this is you regretting it, then I'm okay with that." 

 

“Good.” Midorima hopes that comes out a bit more steady than he thinks it does, because even Takao’s mouth on his penis hadn’t made his belly flutter like this. “You will have to do the work in this relationship, of course. I have no experience and you’ve boasted about yours quite frequently.” That doesn’t keep him from tightening an arm around Takao’s waist, tugging him closer.

 

"Yeah, yeah, I've _been_ doing the work, you know," Takao grumbles, shifting around so that he's straddling Midorima's thighs instead. "It's a good thing that I can see the good girlfriend material in you." Yeah, you know, he's just going to keep calling Midorima that. 

 

“Ah. So you want this to be a heterosexual relationship.” Midorima looks up, uncertain if this is a--no, this is definitely a humor thing. Takao is _so_ predictable that way. “Do you often give your girlfriends blowjobs, I believe the phrase is?”

 

Wait. Is Midorima actually attempting a joke? Oh. Oh, that's _really_ funny. Takao chokes on a laugh, and promptly shoves his face into Midorima's neck. "Nooope, that's just for my favorite one."

 

Midorima has to repress the urge to be annoyed, reminding himself that laughter is an _appropriate_ response to a successful attempt at humor. Yes, that was a success. “Weren’t you the one who looks excellent in stockings and pigtails? Ah.” This humor thing is getting easier. “Perhaps we are homosexual women.”

 

Takao sputters, trying very, _very_ hard not to topple out of Midorima's lap from giggling so much. "Can we… _not_ be?" he wheezes. "I like my dick and your dick a _lot_." 

 

If humor works so well at making Takao happy, Midorima _might_ consider trying it again at some point. “I’m not very well acquainted with yours yet. You said later. I might still change my mind and decide to be a homosexual woman.”

 

"I'd still like you if you were a homosexual woman--but can you just stay the way you are?" Takao breathlessly manages, flopping forward to bury his face back into Midorima's shoulder. "I promise my dick is good enough."

 

“Nonsense, you know I only believe in empirical truths.” Midorima swallows, suddenly a lot less amused and a lot more _interested_. “You could….prove it to me,” he suggests, blinking a rapid few times behind his glasses.

 

"… That might have kinda been the reason I invited you over," Takao admits with a grin, drawing back enough to peer up at Midorima. "See, my parents both travel a lot for work, so they're rarely home. We've got the place to ourselves, isn't that awesome?" 

 

“It explains a lot about you that your level of parental supervision is extremely low,” Midorima allows. He swallows, looking for the words, and asks, “Are you….as prepared here as you were in the locker room?”

 

"Rude. And my bedroom's a lot better, come on." Takao slides out of his lap, grabbing at Midorima's hands to pull him up in kind. It's impossible not to be excited when he has a very, very willing and interested Shin-chan at his disposal. "I'm not sucking you off again, though, my jaw is still sore." 

 

Ah, Midorima had been apprehensive about this. He follows, though he tells himself it’s just to protect his hands from any wear and tear, muttering, “if you’re expecting me to return the favor, I’m very very certain it won’t be anything like what you did--if you want to write down some instructions…”

 

"Oh, you don't have to do anything like that if you don't want to," Takao cheerfully tosses over his shoulder, and flops back into his bed in short order, a grabbing motion towards Midorima following. "I didn't expect you to. Shin-chan's kinda prissy."

 

“I prefer to think of it as being ‘careful,’ or possibly ‘hygienic,’” Midorima protests, but he follows Takao onto the bed all the same. “Western-style,” he observes, not with any great rancor. “It’s….bouncy.” He reaches up a hand, brushing away a few stray hairs from Takao’s face. “Like you.” Ah, that was stupid. Maybe Takao will think it’s more humor.

 

Well, that was unexpected. Unexpected, but _really nice_. Takao slowly grins, leaning forward to butt his head into Midorima's hand, turning just enough to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. "Shin-chan _does_ have a sweet side to him after all," he says, eyes lidding. "That's definitely just for behind closed doors. No one else is allowed to see." 

 

Midorima nods, not trusting himself to really say anything else. It would only be embarrassing, and why talk when he can touch Takao like this and make him smile? Especially when Takao is doing all the work, that’s a very good behavior he firmly wants to encourage. The bed is throwing him off, that’s all he can say, because it’s a softness when he’s used to nothing more than a thin futon over the floor. “We can….be behind closed doors a bit more often than before, I think.”

 

"Ahh, I'm honored our magnificent Ace-sama has granted permission for such a thing," Takao teases, dragging his lips up Midorima's palm, and idly flicking his tongue out to trace one of the lines there. "Something you probably already know really well," he murmurs, "but you've got nice hands."

 

“Yes, I know,” Midorima acknowledges easily. There are many things about himself about which he’s quite confident; hands are second only to his shooting ability. “Am I to return a compliment for a compliment? You have a nice tongue.” He flushes, sitting back and stretching out his legs, hesitantly encouraging Takao to sit on his lap again.

 

Takao eagerly takes the cue, sliding his way up to settle himself over Midorima's thighs, far from inclined to release the other boy's hand yet. He's not quite sure if he could get away with grabbing and licking at the left one, but this is a definite start. "You seemed to like it earlier well enough," he notes, sliding his lips up one finger, tongue flicking lightly just at the tip. 

 

“I did.” No use denying it. Midorima reaches up, the fingers of his left hand carefully tracing over Takao’s features, remembering how flushed and tear-stained he’d looked, how messy and filthy, and he lets out a little grunting sigh. “I liked the way you looked, too.”

 

"Shin-chan's a pervert," Takao murmurs, smirking as he says it, and wriggles forward on purpose, deeper into Midorima's lap as he dares a light scrape of his teeth over that same finger. "Figured as much. Why do you think I bothered with those awful stockings all day, hmm? I knew you'd like them." 

 

Midorima snatches back his finger on reflex, feeling bad about it and replacing it with one from his right hand. It’s entirely distracting to have Takao in his lap like this, and _god_ , he so rarely has more than one erection in a day that he has to wonder what Takao is doing to him. “You’re the worse pervert,” he mutters breathlessly, laying back on his elbows, liking the feel of Takao on top of him, sort of hoping for another suck even if his jaw does hurt. “I predict you’ve already thought of something perverted you want to do to me behind closed doors. Is it another costume?”

 

Eh, it was worth a shot. Maybe later, when Midorima's all relaxed and floppy again, and he doesn't have that little edge of apprehension still. "Nah. Pranced around enough for one day." Takao flops down after him, propping his chin up on Midorima's chest to keep staring up at him. Damn, he's really tall. "How mad would you be if I said I wanted to put my dick in you?" 

 

Midorima blinks. He turns that idea over in his head a few times, white teeth sinking slightly into his bottom lip as his brow furrows. “Let me think about it for a few minutes,” he says finally. “You--you can try to convince me in the meantime.” 

 

He’s never felt anything like that sort of sensation, but the psychological component--that Takao would be _inside_ him--is a little overwhelming in a way that makes him rock-hard in seconds. It’s the physicality that throws him, more than anything.

 

"… Doesn't feel like you need a lot of convincing," Takao wryly points out, pushing himself up again and letting the curve of his ass slide back and against Midorima's cock. That's a hell of a lot better than a prissy growl and shove right off the bed. "I'll make it really good. Ah, but if you decide you don't like it, we can stop. No big deal." He lurches up, mouth dragging up the side of Midorima's neck, enamored by the softness of skin there, especially when he sinks his teeth in and slowly sucks. "Just thought it'd be something you'd like." 

 

Midorima arches under Takao’s touch, though he grabs his head and shoves him down. “Under my school uniform, Takao,” he snaps, the first harsh word he’s said in an hour. “Or you’ll explain it to my father.” That’s hardly an empty threat--Takao’s met his father, strict and unyielding, with firm ideas about everything being in place and a place for everything, though Midorima doubts that includes love bites from his boyfriend.

 

Takao scowls, and gives a harder bite through the uniform in question, right into the curve of Midorima's shoulder. "Not my fault you've got a pretty neck," he growls, eyes lidding as his fingers pull and pluck at buttons to open up the jacket. "Or a pretty everything. Do your lashes get in the way sometimes? They're so _long_." 

 

“They brush against my glasses sometimes,” Midorima admits. “Don’t pout at me, you’re the one who wanted this to stay behind closed doors. If you prefer we can wait for a suitable day in the horoscope and make the news public, but that might impact your popularity negatively.”

 

 _It's not me I'm worried about, idiot._ Takao snorts, ducking his head all the same to bite at Midorima's collarbone. If he's allowed to at least leave _some_ marks, that's just as good. "You should take your glasses off. They're not good for kissing, anyway." 

 

Midorima’s hand comes up to his glasses, but he changes his mind. “No. Then I won’t be able to see you.” He reaches down to the hem of his uniform, unbuttoning each button before sliding off the jacket, then the undershirt. “Takao looks very different in bed.”

 

Ah, that's startlingly cute. "Guess I'll have to learn how to kiss you with them on, then," he sighs, scooting up with a kiss to the side of Midorima's neck rather than a bite. He can't get mad at that, right? "Shin-chan's always pretty. You're gonna give me a complex." 

 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Midorima reaches out, knowing he has some kind of permission, apprehensive to take it nonetheless, and lets his hands come to rest on Takao’s chest. That’s nice, feeling the muscles on the smaller boy’s frame, hands dragging down over the cloth. “You’re the one that could have anyone here.”

 

Takao hums thoughtfully at that, and idly lifts one of his own hands, plucking at buttons to shrug away his own jacket. "But I'm picky. And I like you. There's not much competition with that in mind, you know." 

 

“You’re picky?” Midorima doesn’t quite manage to keep the disbelief out of his voice. “It’s all right, your taste has markedly improved lately.”

 

His hands hover for a moment, then dip down, the index finger of his left hand dipping hesitantly underneath Takao’s waistband, sliding slowly side to side. “You said I could.”

 

"Rude," is the sigh to follow, though _hardly_ in regards to the hand that wants to go down his pants. Takao quickly tugs his belt free, tossing it aside with little care. "I can't decide what I like more--you being super into touching me like this, or the idea of you telling me that I'm not good enough to put my hands on you and then letting me anyway, like a true tsundere heroine."

 

Well. Midorima isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. “I’d think any sane person would prefer my hands on them. I have excellent hands.” Ah, he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t exciting to have those hands on Takao’s waistband, carefully unbuttoning, then unzipping his trousers with a heady sort of permission, looking back up to Takao’s face to watch it change. It’s a little upsetting, how much he wants to reach his hand down and explore, feel the textures and see how it smells and how heavy it is, see everything he’d been to excited to notice the first time.

 

"That you do," Takao breathily exhales, his own eyes flickering down to watch the path of Midorima's hands, biting his lip to keep back a groan before he's even properly touched. "It's kinda unfair. I think about them a lot." 

 

“So do I.” Their maintenance, their value, their expense, their care, what he would do if anything happened to them…

 

Midorima takes a deep breath, then decides on his left hand, all the better to actually _feel_ , and slides it down beneath Takao’s waistband, curling it around his cock. 

 

It’s….nice. Heavy. Warm to the point of being quite hot, thicker than his own, though not so thick his fingers don’t brush against his thumb when he closes his hand around it. The skin is soft, and he slowly drags his hand down from base to tip, looking up at Takao’s face.

 

"… I don't think we think about them in exactly… the same way," Takao manages, a long, lingering shudder creeping down his spine as his eyes flutter. God, that's an understatement for sure. He thinks about Midorima's hands on him like this, delicately stroking him, and ahh, he probably could tell the other boy a few of his more lewd fantasies, but right now, _reality_ is a lot better. "You can… squeeze a little tighter," he breathes, his hips twitching forward, lips parting against Midorima's neck and _god_ , it's hard not to _bite_. 

 

“Of course I can,” Midorima says, though it doesn’t come out as confident and self-assured as he’d intended when his attention is so--well, a good word might be _fractured_.  Takao is _writhing_ on top of him, breathing heavily against his neck, obviously trying not to rut into his hand, and that’s enough to make Midorima’s mouth go bone-dry. “I--my hands are strong.” He grips more tightly, another long, purposeful stroke from base to tip, feeling the slight drip of a liquid against his thumb. Even more than the feel of it, he _has_ to examine this, and he withdraws his hand to study it, sniffing and hesitantly flicking out his tongue to lick at it.

 

"Fuck, you're not fair," Takao rasps, _needing_ to shut his eyes at the sight of that but simply unable to. His cock twitches, _throbs_ , and god, it's pretty damn hard not to insist on Midorima's head between his legs right then and there. "At this point, you are _so_ not allowed to argue," he groans, grabbing at Midorima's belt, fumbling with the buckle and making quick work of his fly. "Not when you do things like that. I really need to fuck you."

 

Midorima only has the presence of mind to nod. He’s been thinking about it in the back of his mind, weighing the pros and cons, but the second he’d wrapped his hand around Takao’s cock it had been decided. And if it’s decided, he reminds himself, there’s no need to be nervous. His hands definitely don’t need to be shaking as he helps Takao shove his trousers to the floor, toeing off his socks in the process. “Just...tell me what to do. I want to try it.” Ah, that admission costs him something in terms of pride, but it makes him harder, too.

 

He should get a medal for not just giving up and coming all over himself. " _You_ just get to lie back and look nice," Takao shakily laughs, shutting his eyes to get control of himself as he wriggles out of his own trousers and underwear in one motions, kicking them entirely to the side. " _I_ get to try and not lose my mind. Dammit, Shin-chan, you've got amazing legs, too." It doesn't matter that he's seen them a million times in the locker room--now is _different_ , especially when he's got Shin sprawled out and naked in _his_ bed, and how the hell is he supposed to not _touch?_ With a groan, Takao flops to the side, pawing open his nightstand drawer. "Stop being so pretty, I'm gonna die." 

 

Midorima is confident to the point of arrogance about a lot of things, but not really his looks. Not with regards to being _pretty_ , especially. He lays back, letting Takao spread his legs, examining his own emotions and realizing that he rather likes being splayed out and vulnerable like this, at least (only) for Takao. 

 

He wants, suddenly, to say something about it. He wants, a little, to tell Takao that he trusts him, that he’s glad they’re here, that Takao gives him more security than his lucky item ever does, but really….isn’t he saying that already, just by being here like this? If Takao can’t tell that, he doesn’t need to hear it. 

 

He reaches out and touches his glasses, promising in a voice that only shakes a little, “I want to see this next part. Then I’ll take them off, when you’re in.”

 

A strangled noise catches in his throat, and Takao nearly drops the bottle of lube that he fished out. "Think of my heart when you say those things, Shin-chan," he manages with a shaky laugh, sliding a hand up one pale thigh before stretching up and stealing a quick kiss. "You really might kill me."

 

Ah, fuck, Takao is _sure_ he's a lot smoother when it comes to girls. Or maybe he isn't, and he's always this fumbly and shaky and over-eager. He doubts it, though, and it takes a lot of effort to take it slow, his fingers slick when they drag over that tight little hole. "Try and relax more, just a little bit," he mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath when he _slowly_ manages to work one finger inside, and fuck, Shin is so tight and shivery around just one finger. "There's no way I'm gonna get it in if you're like this."

 

That….

 

Midorima is pretty sure it’s not supposed to feel quite that _interesting_ , from everything he’s read. 

 

He clutches at the sheets, thinking he might as well have just taken his glasses off if he can’t even focus his eyes in any case, a low groan welling up in his throat at the slender, urgent invasion. It’s like nothing he’s ever quite felt, making him squirm and writhe, in every direction but _away_. “You,” he tries to say, only to have the word turn into a long, drawn-out moan. He reaches down, fingernails scrabbling at Takao’s wrist urgently, trying to bring him in closer. “I,” he tries again, panting, “don’t….know how, but--ahh--you can’t stop, you have to--”

 

Takao didn't quite expect _that_ reaction, but damn if he's going to turn that down. "Not gonna stop," he breathlessly promises, pressing a wet, sloppy kiss to Midorima's chest--about as far as he can reach right then, especially when he's twisting his wrist a bit, pulling back just enough to try and wriggle another finger inside. He's definitely going too fast; Shin-chan's _way_ too tight, too shivery and tense around just that much, but at least his fingers are slick enough to make it a little easier and it's obvious how much he _wants_ to make it work. Definitely not so different from girls, after all. "You gotta open up a bit more for me, though, Shin-chan," Takao murmurs, shuddering when his fingers sink in to the second knuckle, and he feels all of those little muscles _twitch_ around them. "So I can _really_ take care of you."

 

Midorima nods, gulping in a breath as his chest heaves, letting go of Takao’s wrist so he can grab the sheets again. He’s usually good at making his body obey him, though these are certainly not muscles he’s been _training_ in any way. He tries, imagining isolation, a tightening and loosening of all the muscles down there as a group, and feels it the second Takao’s fingers slide in deeper. He hears a desperate groan, and knows it’s himself. “Just--how much longer?” he asks, urging his own legs wider, trying to get Takao between them by sheer force of will.

 

That's a little better, at least, and Takao exhales a ragged, breathless laugh, another messy kiss pressed up onto Midorima's throat when he lurches up. "Can't wait any longer," he admits, half-apologizing, but fuck, he's _really_ not sorry at all at this point. Carefully, he drags his hand out, wiping it on the sheets before he fumbles for a condom. "I'm gonna be all the way inside you really soon," he promises, rubbing a soothing hand to one thigh even though he's shaking a bit as well. He's _never_ like this. Rolling around in bed with girls is so much easier, so much less worry and stress and-- _ugh_ , it's not even stress. He just _wants_ so badly, he can't really _think_. 

 

Fingers are one thing--his cock is another, especially when he's this hard and Midorima wound this tight. _This is so not gonna work_ , Takao wryly thinks, inwardly laughing at his own jokes about his boyfriend being an _actual_ tight-ass. Not so funny, though, when trying and efforts yield little result. "So… that relaxing thing," he breathes out teasingly, blowing a sweat-soaked strand of hair from his face. "Deeeep breaths, don't make me flip you over and do it that way. I wanna see your face too much."

 

Midorima tries to breathe, everything subsumed in a haze of tense, too-hot longing. He arches his back, relaxing again the way it had felt before, though all of that goes out the window when he looks down and sees Takao’s cock, ready for him and nestled between his thighs, about to go _in_ him. 

 

Ahh, how can anyone relax when thinking about something like that, especially from Takao?

 

He’s glad, unbelievably glad that he’d kept his glasses on. Midorima’s never seen Takao quite like this, needing and laughing and excited and aroused all at once, and all because of _him_. _Maybe this is what most people feel, when they’re happy,_ he thinks dimly, letting go of the sheets and reaching up to loop long arms around Takao’s neck. “That’s as good as it’s going to get,” he says shakily. “Takao, I want it. Now.” _Please don’t make me beg._

 

Welp. More lube it is, then.

 

At least he doesn't have to go far for another, slick drag of the stuff over his cock, shuddering at his own touch and stifling a groan into Midorima's chest. "Yeah, okay. I'll make it work," he promises, turning his head aside to press a quick, affectionate kiss to one arm as he scoots his knees up further, taking his cock in hand to better guide it between the other boy's legs. 

 

It _does_ take effort, especially when he's trying not to force it, because Shin-chan's a shivery, tense thing at best still and when he _finally_ gets even just the head of his cock inside, Takao feels like the breath has been ripped from his lungs. He bites at his own lip, reminding himself _slow slow slow_ even when he's sinking in inch by inch, soon finding himself grabbing at those lean hips instead until he's _thankfully_ all the way in, and god, he's just going to _die_. "R-really good," he manages, eyes fluttering and he swears his vision crosses from the effort it takes not to just fuck into something that hot and slick and trembling around him. " _Perfect_ , look at you, you're made for this." 

 

There’s a moment, right when Takao first pushes in all the way, when Midorima stops breathing. He stops _thinking_ , something that’s never happened in all his memories, and just collapses back onto the bed, a boneless, eager, hungry creature, the only thought in his mind _I’m full, I’m full, I’m full of him._

 

He catches a glimpse of Takao’s face--lost, unbalanced, so like his own--and shudders from his toes up, every part of him clenching and spasming in time with his heartbeat as he clutches at Takao, nails digging hard into his back, scrabbling frantically to take everything he can. His legs are jelly, trembling and tense, and Midorima sort of wishes he knew what to _do_ with them. They splay awkwardly, and he doesn’t care, not when Takao’s cock slides into him full and thick and demanding.

 

“M-myess,” he slurs, eyes squeezed shut, squeezing out a tear or two as sweat beads on his forehead. “Mmore, Ta--Takao, m-more--” 

 

He’s never felt so lost, or so much like he knows where he belongs.

 

 _This_ part Takao knows he's good at. 

 

His fingers splay over Midorima's hips, his own breath a ragged thing stuttering in his chest as he slowly, painstakingly slides out, unable to stop himself from looking down and _watching_ the way his cock sinks back in when his hips rock forward, harder this time (he _really_ can't help that) and just a bit faster. "T-that's better," he huffs out, his back bowing when he feels those nails dig into his back, and he twists his head to the side to kiss at the inside of Midorima's arm again because it's the easiest thing to get his mouth on and _fuck_ why does Shin-chan have to be so _tall_ in moments like these? Better than voicing his frustration is shoving in _harder_ , and judging by the way Midorima spasms around him, that was a _good_ idea. 

 

Despite not being able to even _talk_ , Midorima thinks he must be getting his point across really well. Either that, or Takao wants the same thing he does, _needs_ the same thing, because he’s shoving into Midorima harder and harder with each thrust, and if Midorima had the breath to beg, that’s what he’d beg for. _Take me_ , he wants to chant, a hundred times more lewd than he’s ever been, harder than he’s ever been, and the noise that comes out of his mouth is too loud to be called a moan. 

 

 _Take me_ , because Takao is, taking everything that he is, turning him into a _mess_ , a writhing, panting thing that only wants to be taken harder, and the next thing he knows, the next scream out of his mouth sounds like, “ _Take me_.”

 

Yeah, there's definitely no part of Midorima that is _fair_ right now.

 

Takao gives up on the idea of being careful. He just _can't_ be, not when Midorima's clawing at him and making all those noises and begging him with every muscle in his body. Their hips slap together _hard,_ the sound wet and slick and obscene to his ears as he bites and kisses and sucks wherever his mouth can reach, his breath hot and ragged against Midorima's chest, his fingernails digging half-moons into those lean, grazable hips that Takao can't help but yank on from time to time, pull him down onto his cock when it throbs so hard he thinks he'll really just die. 

 

Probably, he should apologize for being so rough, for fucking Midorima on his back like he would some girl, except it's a dozen times better than that, with those long arms and legs clinging to him and _god_ , his cock is hard between them, which makes Takao reach a fumbling hand there, too, to grab and stroke. 

 

One touch of Takao’s hand is all it takes, and Midorima comes with a scream, head thrown back and eyes squeezed tightly shut. He rides it out, feeling the flood of wetness on his abdomen, shoving himself down on Takao’s cock over and over again until every bit of him is drenched in sweat, shivering and exhausted. 

 

He’s not sure where he goes after that, in his mind, but it’s somewhere with shapes and no colors and a fizzling, aching delight suffusing all his senses.

 

It's a _damn_ good thing Midorima's so wound up and comes so fast. Otherwise he might be a bit embarrassed at his own lack of endurance (usually much more reliable, really!), but how can he be expected to hold on after _that?_ Takao's own groan is lost when he bites into Midorima's shoulder, shuddering hard as he shoves in as deep as he _can_ , and he comes even harder imagining that condom not being there, the idea of filling Midorima up hot and slick until he's _dripping_ later so strong in his mind--

 

"Fucking _god_ ," he eloquently moans, flopping down with another, hard aching shudder that rakes down his spine. Even his bones feel like they're dissolving. A few ragged, panting breaths later, and Takao manages: "Can we just… all the time? This thing?" 

 

When he comes to, Midorima’s a little shocked to find out that Takao is only now pulling out of him, and that it hasn’t been several hours since he’d passed out. Or a year. 

 

He nods, relaxing his grip and letting his arms flop down to the bed. Everything is deliciously hazy, and the wound-tight, ever-present words and ticking and anxiety is somehow muted in a way his mother’s doctor had explained years ago he’d need medication to achieve. “All the time,” he agrees, attempting to put his left hand somewhere good, winding up flopping it down around Takao’s neck and shoulder. “This thing. All the time. I’ll kill you if you stop. Please don’t.”

 

"Not gonna stop," is the muffled, albeit very, very pleased mumble to follow. Takao wriggles upward with a sigh, grimacing when he reaches down to peel the condom off and lazily toss it into the near-by wastebasket before properly stretching out on top of Midorima. "Shin-chan is _really_ good at this," he murmurs, sliding both hands up through Midorima's hair, but not before he gently hooks his fingers into the other boy's glasses to ease them off. "Pretty sure I'd just die if I never got to do it again with you."

 

Midorima nuzzles forward, finding it easier to be a little embarrassing when he can’t see anything but a blur, tilting forward until he rubs his nose against Takao’s, his lips against Takao’s. “You did that too fast,” he murmurs, looping an arm around Takao’s waist to pull him closer. “I wanted to watch you play with it like last time.”

 

Takao whistles underneath his breath. "And Shin-chan's _really_ a pervert, too." He sounds _very_ far from put off about it, and grins as he snaps his teeth lightly against the line of Midorima's jaw. "I'll remember that next time. Condoms are a lot more fun when it's two guys, who would've figured."

 

Midorima butts his head gently against Takao’s. “You’re turning me into a pervert like you with exposure,” he decides. “Maybe next time I’ll take a photograph of you afterward.”

 

"… That's hot," Takao unabashedly decides. "You can take a lot of pics, just let me take a few of you, too." 

 

Midorima only hesitates for a moment before agreeing. “Done. Though...I wish I had one of how you looked in the locker room.”

 

"Eh, we'll do things like that again and you can take more pics, I don't care. Geez, Shin-chan, you really are the worst pervert. I wish I figured that out earlier."

 

Midorima clears his throat, then ducks his head, scooting down to tuck it under Takao’s chin. Yes, that sort of thing he’s always wanted to do is much easier when laying down, even if his legs are folded up double. “I expect it’s my repressive nature. That’s what the internet would lead me to believe. It was likely either sexual perversion or turning to arson.”

 

Takao snorts out a laugh, and promptly gives the other boy a firm squeeze, dragging him close. Too bad he can't really curl up around him like he wants to (that's definitely different than girls, oh well), but cuddling like this is still really good. "Don't burn things, just be a pervert with me. It's a lot more fun and better for you."

 

“Mm, yes. At least I’m in company. Thank you for practicing safe sex, by the way. I think I would have forgotten to insist.” Midorima slowly turns his head, pressing a kiss to Takao’s collarbone. “And you do it attractively.”

 

"Yeah, yeah, I figured you'd be kind of a stickler for that. Condoms are sexy, especially if you splurge on the nice ones like I do, anyway." Takao half-buries his face down into the mess of Midorima's hair, eyes lidding. "Also… you seem pretty happy right now. I'm glad." 

 

“I am.” It’s probably the first time _ever_ that doesn’t involve basketball, and Midorima snuggles a bit closer. “I’d sleep here if I could. Even in the same room as you. In the same _bed_.” He opens his eyes, though that hardly changes the view. “That’s a big deal for me, if you don’t know.”

 

"Mm? Shin-chan can spend the night, that'd be awesome. I mean, if your parents don't mind or anything. I can fake my dad's voice on the phone if that's a thing." Takao pauses, thinking, as his fingers slowly stroke down Midorima's spine. "Or is it more like you suck sleeping around other people? You seem the type." 

 

“That’s it.” Midorima heaves himself up to sitting, sighing out a breath through his nose. “My parents won’t allow it, not on a school night. Probably not ever. They don’t even let me go on some school trips.”

 

"Ahh, that's really lame," Takao complains, sitting up with a huff of breath. "I bet you'd sleep just fine tonight, though. You're all relaxed and floppy; after a good dinner, you'd probably pass right out." 

 

Midorima looks at him for a moment, then grabs for his trousers, fishing his phone out of his pocket. “I can try,” he offers. “It’s been a while since I asked. Ah. Elementary school, actually.”

 

"… Are you for real?" Takao stares at him before shrugging, sitting back as he rakes a hand through his hair. "Well, whatever. If you can't sleep, then I'll just fuck you again or something. That'll knock you out."

 

Midorima steels himself for a fight, and is somewhat surprised when his mother not only seems willing, but highly enthusiastic that he wants to spend the night at a friend’s house, “ _As long as it’s that nice Kazuruni boy._ ” 

 

Midorima hangs up after a moment, contentedly laying back down with his head on Takao’s chest. “You might want to anyway. Just in case.”

 

"Next time, at least correct your mother when she says my name wrong, it's not _that_ weird of a name," Takao half-heartedly chides. "And we'll do it again--after I feel like moving. Maybe after food, if I feel like getting it."

 

“My mother can’t remember anything more modern than Kenichi,” Midorima says with a shrug. “Old family. I can’t cook, you know. We can order in.” He narrows his eyes a little, though all that does is narrow the blur. “You’re not allowed to be sore, it’s my body that should be sore.” Ah, even arguing with Takao just feels like a lot of work when he’s all twingy and melted. And he’s _good_ at arguing with Takao.

 

"I'm allowed to be _tired_ , though! Do you know how much effort it takes to be cute all day and then to have this much sex? And I was _really_ adorable, don't argue." Takao flops an arm over him, burrowing close. "Just lie here with me for a bit, Shin-chan. Then we'll get food and it'll be good." 

 

Midorima never lays down in the middle of the day, or before 10pm. But he never really lets Takao fuck him senseless, either. “All right.” 

 

The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s asleep on Takao’s chest.


End file.
